Luck Be a Lady
by Gustava Moliere
Summary: AU. A male escort gets more than he bargained for - One-shot.


Note: A plot I did without an actual plot to the tune of vocal jazz. Don't ask what I was thinking, because I wasn't.

Plot: Her friends want to meet her beau.

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_Luck Be a Lady_

It buzzes with energy. The chatter around the room it's obvious and so are the looks. Looks that is more mocking than sympathetic. Chatter that makes him _wish_ that the earth could swallow him whole. It's her _fault._ Everything to this point _is._ Curse him for saying yes and curse her for being a damnable vixen.

His gaze sweeps around area for any sight of her and his eyes meet hers. A wicked gleam appears in those brown eyes and she simply smiles enigmatically, raising her glass in his direction as a direct challenge. His blue eyes narrow in question. What is she _planning?_ The woman ducks her head and whispers something to a nondescript young man.

The fella turns to look at him and he curses. This is a dangerous game he's playing, he _knows._ But he _can't_ just stay away. That brat has no _right_ to steal what's _his._ She belongs to him, _dammit! _ She only _paid_ him, sure, but she has _kept_ him around more than the others. It's not super. It's not okay at _all._ You're not supposed to _fall_ for the client. But he _feels_ something for her.

And it _hurts._ It hurts _more_ than it should to be casted aside for another. But he wouldn't have expected any less from her. And, now, _now,_ he's been left to the vultures and not the good _kind_ of vultures. Her new companion tilts his head and two men, a blond and a green-haired man, start to move.

"What the _hell?"_ he mouths, turning to look at her. The woman simply looks at him coolly and he feels betrayed. She _did_ this on purpose. He's certain of _it._ And he has a vague idea why. He's been suspecting it for a while. The thing is that he's sorry to disappoint, but he's _not_ a dammed spy. But she seems to _think_ so for some inane idea.

What is it with Russians thinking that _all_ Americans are spies? He's American born, that's _it._ He spent his first nine years in New York and the rest in Venetia, Italia with his maternal uncle, Tom. He's _not_ a plant, not _even_ a Mafia member. His job isn't an honorable one, but, at least, he has clean _record!_

And he won't run _away_ like a coward either. An Italian chap like himself doesn't have anything to hide. The blond man grabs his arm harshly and presses something to his back, hissing. "Don't move, don't even blink, do you _understand?_"

A knot forms in his throat and he swallows simply nodding. The other man grunts not saying a single word and blindfolds him. He's pushed briskly and lead to somewhere. It feels like _forever,_ it never seems to _end._ Quick steps are heard in the distance accompanied by a few murmurs and echoes in the eerie abysm. Somebody pushes to a chair, removes the blindfold and ties him up.

His head turns to the sound of people talking, but all he can manage is to hear bits of a conversation. And it doesn't take too long to figure out it's about him and how supposedly dangerous he is. A sigh escapes him and he waits.

"–_dangerous!_ Are you even _hearing_ me!?"

"B-But I want to interrogate him!"

"I don't _care!_ Robin said he's dangerous!"

"He looks harmless to me."

"Luffy, don't you _dare!"_

"You idiot, come _back_ here!"

Much to the protests of everyone in the vicinity, the fella from earlier ignores them and approaches him. He stops in a safe distance and studies him closely. A grin appears in his features and he concludes with an air of finality, "You don't look like a bad guy."

"That's because I'm _not,"_ it's his answer.

"Shishishi," he laughs. "I like you. What's your name? I'm Monkey D. Luffy."

"Franciscus, but they call me Franky."

"What's your job?"

A hesitant look appears on the blue-haired man's face, but it disappears in an instant. There's no use in _denying_ it. He's not proud off what he is, but he's no dammed liar either. "I'm an escort," he answers, truthfully.

"That's_ it?"_

"Yes, that's _it!_ Do I _look_ like a damned spy to _you!?"_

"For a prostitute, you sure could play the part very well," remarks casually the green-haired man, slouched against the wall with his eyes closed.

"Don't say _it_ like _that_, dammit! It's not super at _all!"_

The blond takes a long drag of his cigarette and lets out a puff of smoke in his direction. "I agree for once with the marimo. You look like you could _be_ a spy. And _even_ if you aren't one of 'em, I still don't see what mademoiselle Robin sees in a male _prostitute_ like _you."_

A scowl mars his features, his blue eyes shining coldly. "Whatever Robin _thinks_ about me it's none of your business. That's _between_ me and her."

"I still think she could have done _better."_

"Well, I–"

"Would you idiots, _shut up!?_ You're giving me a headache!" snaps the only woman in the room, rubbing her temples. And it surprises Franky that Robin _isn't_ in her company.

Luffy laughs raucously at them, turning to look at a long nosed dark-skinned young man. His hands type rapidly his eyes focused on the screen. "So, so, Usopp, did he tell the truth? Is he a prostitute? Is he a spy? Is he a giant mecha cyborg in disguise?"

"Yes, he told the truth. Yes, he's an escort. And, no, he isn't a spy or a giant mecha cyborg in disguise, Luffy," replies the dark skinned man, his eyes never leaving the screen.

The blond looks disappointed, but determined. "Is he a criminal?"

Usopp sighs and looks at the fair-haired man. "Do I really need to read the background check, Sanji?"

"Yes, he could be a _scumbag!"_

"Hey!"

Another sigh is heard. "Franciscus Frabizio, age 34, born in Manhattan, New York, U.S.A., maternal nephew of Tommaso "Tom" Fabrizio and Dennis "Den" Frabizio, younger foster brother of Eis Burg, owner of Galley-La Industries. Graduated High School and studied in Università Ca' Foscari Venezia a B.A. and M.A. in Cultural Heritage. Has the equivalent of a M.A. in Conservation and restoration training from Istituto Superiore per la Conservazione ed il Restauro in Rome. He has dual American-Italian citizenship. Need I continue?"

The cigarette falls from the man's mouth. A smirk appears in Zoro's face and Nami looks at the blue-haired man appreciatively. Luffy simply grins and Usopp gives Sanji a look. The blond lights another cigarette and straightens, crossing his arms stubbornly. "He still sounds like a _scumbag_ to _me."_

"Every guy sounds like a scumbag to you," comments Nami, rolling her eyes. All eyes turn to look Franky contemplatively and he shifts nervously. Whatever they decide to do with him, it's either for better or for worse.

"What do we do with him?"

"He _isn't_ a spy."

"We can't kill him."

"Robin doesn't deserve him."

"Shut up, Sanji. Your opinion doesn't count."

"Oh, I know, why don't we let Robin decide!?"

"That's a bad idea. Robin should forget that shitty bastard!"

The click of familiar heels interrupts them and Luffy smiles at Robin. "Do you want to decide, Robin?"

Her brown eyes connect with hopeful blue ones and she smiles. "I would like that very much, Captain."

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The silence between them is deafening, _even __**after **_she unties him. He doesn't know what to say and neither does she. It feels awkward at best. Franky opens his mouth to speak and hesitates. A sigh escapes him and he looks away from her, running a hand through his hair. She _tossed_ him aside. That much was clear, so it _shouldn't_ really matter to him what she tells him, except, that it _does._

"I'm _sorry,"_ she starts, breaking the silence. And he turns to look at her in surprise.

"Are _you_, really?" he asks, bitterly. His head lowers electric blue hair covering his eyes. Her hand caresses his jaw and she raises his chin making him look at her. She looks sincere and he almost, _almost_ believes _it._

"Very."

"You tossed _me_ aside. _Why_ should I _care?"_

"I did no such thing, Franciscus."

"Yes, you _did!_ I'm _not_ blind, Niko Robin! You chose _him!"_

Her hand still lingers in his chin and she kisses him. It's the _same_, it _feels_ the same. He _feels_ like home. His forehead rests with hers and she smiles softly. "One, I chose _you._ Two, the captain is asexual. Three, I'm very _fond_ of you. And four, my friends _wanted_ to meet you. This was their way of showing they care."

The corners of his mouth uplift a little and he looks thoughtful. "Hmmm, well, I'm very fond of you as well, except I _think_ I could love you. Not _yet,_ though. We hardly know each other, yeah? So, how about it? I find a decent job –don't want that blonde bloke or your friends after my arse– and you go out with me."

A beautiful smile blooms in her face and she nods. "I'd like that."

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R&R


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